Sobriety is Overrated
by CaliforniaDreamer
Summary: One-shot. Literati. Jess gets a drunken phone call in the middle of the night. Let's see where is leads him...


**Disclaimer: Me no own, you no sue.**

**Timeline: Let's say about...four years after season four.**

**Spoilers: Anything up to the season four finale is fair game, kids.**

**AN: Just want to say that I'm by no means condoning getting piss drunk, lol.**

**Sobriety is Overrated **

It was one in the morning when the phone rang in Jess's apartment, startling him awake. Mumbling curses under his breath, he fumbled around, finally curling his fingers around the cordless. And of course, by now, the damn thing had rang at least ten times with no signs of letting up. He was thoroughly pissed off by this point.

"Are you insane?" He all but yelled into the phone.

A giggle sounded on the other end. A cute, girly, slightly inebriated sounding giggle.

What the hell?

"Who the hell is this?"

"Hi, Jess!" the person giggled out, trying unsuccessfully to sound mysterious...or sexy...or something. Then it hit him, where he had heard the voice before.

"Rory?" More giggles. "Rory, are you...drunk?" he said incredulously, a bit shocked at the thought of the virginal princess drunk out of her senses.

"Just a tad tipsy," she replied in a manner that implied this was an understatement.

"Where are you?"

"Oh, I don't know," on the other end, Rory waved her hand sloppily through the air. "Some bar in New York. Very nice place. The men here are very friendly." She giggled again.

Friendly? Oh, shit.

"Rory, what's the address?"

"Don't remember. Why, gonna join me Jessie?" If she weren't drunk, he would kill her for calling him Jessie. However, the comment slipped into the back of his mind. He was too busy worrying about finding her, getting her out of there safely.

"Rory, I really need you to remember where the bar is," he pleaded.

"Oh, Washington St., or something like that." Washington Street. Good, it was small, he could only think of one bar there.

"Rory, stay right where you. I mean it, don't move, and don't talk to anyone."

"Oh, I like it when you get all strong and commanding..." she slurred. Shit, she was really, really drunk.

"Just...stay!"

"Sir, yes, sir!" She mock saluted.

Jess sighed as he hung up the phone, massaging his temples. A million thoughts flew through his head. What was she doing here, in New York? Why was she at a bar, of all places? And why the hell did she call him? How did she even have his number? He shook his head. Quickly, he got dressed, grabbed his leather jacket, and headed out the door.

It was going to be a long night.

ooo

Jess walked into the small bar, a fog of smoke coming over him as he entered. He glanced around frantically for Rory. Hell, he wasn't sure what she looked like anymore. He hadn't seen her since they were nineteen, four years. A lot could happen in four years, a lot could change.

Finally, he spotted a slim brunette sitting in the corner. Her hair was longer, halfway down her back now, and she'd gained a bit of maturity over the years, looked a bit more worn. A tall blonde man stood next to her, leaning in dangerously close to her face. She obviously didn't want him there, even in her drunken state, the look on her face was a masked uneasiness, and her grip on that beer bottle a bit tighter than in it should be.

Panicked, Jess hurried over towards her.

"So, I was thinking...I could buy you another drink, and you could come over to my place. We could have a nice, long chat. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" The blonde man ran his fingers idly down her cheek Rory looked scared, so out of place in this scenery. She looked like a mere child.

Jess cleared his throat, announcing his presence. He walked over to Rory's side slowly, as the man watched him quizzically. Jess slipped his arm behind her back protectively.

"Rory, I'm gone for a few minutes, and you already find a replacement?" he smirked, hoping she was at least sober enough to play along.

She was. She smiled up at him, weakly muttering a "Hi, Jess." She stood up slowly, slipping a little closer beside him, and he tightened his grip protectively.

The man looked from Rory to Jess slowly. Jess held his hand out, challengingly.

"I don't believe we've met." The man looked down at Jess's hand, and then back at Rory. Silently, he turned around silently, spotting a blonde wearing a small amount of clothing a few feet away from them.

Jess slowly slid his arm out from behind Rory's back. She looked at him, shaking a bit.

"Thank you," she whispered. He merely nodded. They stood in silence for a minute before Jess tried to talk her hand and lead her out of the bar. She jerked her hand back quickly.

"What are you doing?" She said, annoyed.

"Taking you back to my place...we need to get you out of here."

"No! No!" She jerked away from and plopped back down in her chair obstinately. "I don't want to go!"

"Rory..."

"I need another drink."

"I really think you've had enough."

"No! Don't...don't tell me what...what to do!" She exclaimed, hiccupping at random intervals.

Sighing, he bent down and secured his arm around the small of her back. Thankfully, she was still as light as a feather, and he was able to easily hoist her over his shoulder.

"No! Put! Me! Down!" She screamed, emphasizing each word with a hit to his back. Fortunately for him, nobody in the bar was paying attention to the scene she was making. Ignoring her request, he carried her out of the bar. Eventually she gave up.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked suddenly, about a block later.

"My place."

"I could go to my own hotel," she answered groggily. He wasn't convinced. "Could you at least put me down?"

"Are you going to run away?" She crossed her arms and he just smirked.

ooo

Finally, they reached his apartment. Once inside, he set Rory gently down on his couch, and sat on the edge beside her. She looked up at him, her blue eyes bloodshot.

"I'm sorry." She whispered. He just stared at her, not sure if he was really hearing her right. She took his silence as a warrant to continue.

"I'm sorry I said no. I should have gone with you, should have. I love you. I love you, Jess. Not...not Dean. I was just lonely, I didn't mean to sleep with him, I swear! I miss you, Jess. And I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry." She buried her face into his chest and began to sob. Utterly confused, he pulled her close, rubbing big wide circles across her back, and running his hand through her hair.

She slept with Dean? When? Last he heard, Dean was married. And she...she loved him? No, he couldn't get his hopes up. It was probably just the alcohol talking.

She looked up, studying his face. He couldn't move, couldn't breath, not with her boring into him like that. Gently, slowly, she pushed her lips against his. Her tongue pushed into his mouth, wandering, exploring him.

She tasted like beer mixed with strawberries. She always wore strawberry lip-gloss, he remembered. Her hair, which was falling in tangles onto his face, smelled of smoke. The scent floated into his nostrils, choking him, the taste of alcohol flooding his throat. It woke him up, made him realize what he was doing, just as she was lifting the hem of his shirt up.

He broke away, holding her two inches away from his face. They stared at each other for a moment, before she fell back onto the couch, sobbing.

He couldn't touch her now, couldn't comfort her. He just had to let her cry.

He got up to search for a blanket. Upon finding it, he laid it on top of her. She didn't seem to notice, just kept on crying until she had fallen asleep.

Jess sat in a chair across from her and just watched.

He didn't sleep the rest of the night.

ooo

Rory awoke with a pounding headache in an unfamiliar room. The sunlight streaming in from the windows didn't help much, either.

Groaning slightly, she forced her eyes to focus, to figure out her surroundings. Slowly the events of the night before came to her. Going to the bar with Paris, telling Paris to leave her. The drinks that kept on coming. The man hitting on her, Jess coming to save her...

Jess.

Realization hit her. She was in Jess's apartment. He had brought her home last night, and she had...she had kissed him. She vaguely remembered some speech in there, an apology of sorts.

But she kissed him. _She_ kissed him. She kissed_ him._ She _kissed_ him.

Shit.

Her head still pounded with pain. She needed some coffee...and aspirin. Oh, and maybe something to cut her head off with.

She wandered around the apartment, finally making her way into the kitchen.

And there he was, making coffee and scrambled eggs. He turned around to face her. He looked tired, like he'd been up all night. Wordlessly, he offered a bottle of aspirin. Nodding graciously, she accepted it and took a couple.

"Do you...want some breakfast?" He said, in a hope to break the silence.

"Sure...actually, I should call Paris first. I'm on this business trip with her, and since I didn't show up last night..." He nodded and pointed in the direction of the phone.

She came back from her phone call a few minutes later. If her head hadn't hurt before, it sure did now, after Paris's lecture on safety in the city.

He handed her a plate of eggs and some coffee. She took them and sat down, eating in an awkward silence.

"Last night did I...I think I said..." she attempted to break the silence.

"Yeah, you did," he answered, knowing full well what she was going to ask. Did she apologize; did she say she loved him? "It's okay, you were pretty much drunk off your ass."

She stared at him.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I know you didn't mean it. I won't mention it, don't worry. You can go back to your happy little life now," he replied bitterly. She stared some more before snapping out of it. Then she promptly smacked him across the cheek.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"I did mean it, you big jerk!"

"What?" he asked, softly.

"I meant. I...I love you. And I'm sorry. And...I love you." She paused for a second. This was a hell of a lot harder to say sober. But she meant every word of it, even if logic told her she shouldn't.

"Huh."

"That's all you have to say?"

"We...we have a lot to talk about, don't we?" She just nodded, absently glancing at the clock behind her. Oh, shit.

"I...I told Paris I'd meet her at the hotel in ten minutes. We're supposed to go to a meeting."

"Oh." She looked at him hesitantly. He looked...disappointed?

"Give me a pen."

"What?"

"I need a pen. And some paper." He glanced at her questioningly, but obliged her request. Quickly, she scribbled down some numbers. "This is my cell phone number. I almost always have it turned on." He nodded, not quite understanding. "I'll be in New York for the next week...just...call."

Now he got it. She...they...she had meant it.

She turned to leave, but paused in the doorway. She turned back to look at him. Suddenly she walked back over and pulled him into a kiss.

This time, the alcohol wasn't left on the tip of her tongue. The smoke on her hair wasn't as choking. Passionately, she melded into him, again exploring, wandering in this territory she hadn't crossed in such a long time. He easily reciprocated now, kissing back until she slowly pulled away, leaving a lingering taste in his mouth.

She turned and left, and he heard the door slam shut.

He actually gave a little smile as he looked at the numbers scrawled in front of him, realizing that he was now able to something he had sorely missed.

He could call her later.


End file.
